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IN PALESTINE 
AT THE EMPTY TOMB 


E. E. VIOLETTE 








IN PALESTINE 
AT THE EMPTY TOMB 

BY 

E. E. VIOLETTE 


NEW 



YORK 


GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



.Vs - 


COPYRIGHT, 1923, 

BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 


IN PALESTINE AT THE EMPTY TOMB. I 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



SEP 17 73 

©C1A752930 



To JOHN and GRACE SALA 

MY FRIENDS 

In whose home the most of these lines were writ¬ 
ten, and by whose glowing hearth through long 
winter evenings we talked of our common sorrow 
in life—this book is affectionately dedicated. 

In the Hope of Immortality, 

The Author. 




THE AUTHOR’S FOREWORD 


Several years have passed since the first 
volume of the “In Palestine’’ series was writ¬ 
ten. In Palestine With the Twenty-third 
Psalm is the title of that little book. It has 
passed through several editions, and the kind 
treatment which it is still receiving at the hands 
of an indulgent reading public has encouraged 
the writer to release the second book of the 
series, hoping that it, too, may bring help and 
comfort to many homes of sorrow and become 
a companion to those who may need some little 
help to faith. 

No heart but has its sorrow, 

No life but has some care, 

No tie but shall be broken; 

For death is everywhere. 

So I am sending In Palestine At the Empty 
Tomb upon its way. 

E. E« V, 






CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I BELLS OF THE NIGHT. 13 

II VOICES OF THE DAY.21 

III A HILL AND A GARDEN.31 

IV BY WAY OF GETHSEMANE.41 

V AT THE EMPTY TOMB.51 

VI THE DISCOURSE IN THE STARLIGHT ... 63 

VII LIFE AND DEATH.75 

VIII FROM THE TOURIST^ DIARY. 87 








Chapter I 


Bells of the Night 




Chapter I: Bells of the Night 

A full week had passed since the two com¬ 
panions, Tourist and Traveller, had visited the 
Fountain of David and learned the meaning of 
the Twenty-third Psalm. The time had been 
crowded with the exciting events which take 
place during the last few days of the Greek 
Easter festivities in the Holy City. Thousands 
of pilgrims were making ready for home-going 
to their various countries, having seen and 
kissed the Stone of Unction and touched their 
candles to the Holy Flame. 

Jerusalem was ancient Babel and modern 
Bagdad all in one. The turmoil and strife in 
the Christian quarter was in striking contrast 
to the peace that enshrouded the Jewish quar¬ 
ter, for it was the approach of eventide on the 
Sabbath. Friday, the Mahometan Sabbath had 
passed with sufficient quarrelling to satisfy the 
most orthodox Christian and Muslim, and to¬ 
gether they had desecrated Saturday, the Jew- 

13 


14 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

ish Sabbath after a fashion that would surely 
appease their respective deities. Now Sunday, 
the Christian Sabbath was near at hand and the 
devotees of sectarianism must have one more 
full and uninterrupted feast of sacerdotalism. 
To-morrow they would look for perhaps the 
last time in life upon the sombre and forbid¬ 
ding walls of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 
They must leave the city of their dreams with 
Monday’s dawn; hence the confusion of noises 
and tongues incident to making preparations on 
Saturday afternoon. 

The long, tumultuous day waned, the sun 
dropped off among the hills beyond old Kirjath- 
Jearim and the weary crowds crept away into 
the shadows of the gathering twilight. Only 
heaven could know where these multitudes 
would find rest and sleep that night. With the 
ebb of the throngs came the flow of the tide of 
darkness pushing its way down David Street; 
down Christian Street; rushing through Zion 
Gate; slipping in by way of Damascus Gate; 
running around the brown walls and stealing 
down the narrow streets and thoroughfares 
and then, like a flood, rising higher and higher 
until the pall of night hovered like a black spirit 


Bells of the Night 15 

over minaret and turret and tower, baptising 
the Holy City in a deep tide of gloom. 

Tourist and Traveller, themselves tired with 
much watching and walking, repaired to their 
hotel. They had finished dinner and were 
drinking Turkish coffee while comparing notes 
on their observations during the two Sabbath 
days just past. The Tourist drew forth his 
souvenir bag and displayed the trophies of his 
Easter campaign. A piece of candle that had 
touched the Holy Flame; a cord from the tur¬ 
ban of a Muslim, fresh from Mecca; a chip 
from the altar stone in the Mosque of Omar; 
a piece of wood from the cross of Calvary 
these, and several other relics including a red 
thread from the handkerchief of Mary Magda¬ 
lene, were among the discoveries and purchases 
that would help him to remember his Easter 

visit to the Holy Land. 

The Traveller had found no material me¬ 
mento during the whole week. He had only a 
memory. But it spanned the years and the 
tears of two millenniums and held him in the 
grip of the story of an amazing life that ended 
in the flesh and was born anew in the spirit, 
achieving its ends and aims in a wondrous way 


16 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

among the sons of men in this same city. This 
was the meaning of his return to the Holy City 
at the Easter time. 

The two men, after the Tourist had repacked 
his curios, talked a long time together. It was 
nearing midnight and they were starting to 
their rooms, when lo, the still night was broken 
by the wild ringing of a harsh and grating 
chime. Soon other bells joined; pealing, toll¬ 
ing, creaking, cracking, crashing; then others, 
and still others, until every dome and belfry in 
the Christendom of Jerusalem trembled and 
groaned with the weight of sound and 
swinging. 

“Is the city ablaze in some great conflagra¬ 
tion that all of these bells should be wildly 
ringing at this unearthly hour?” cried the 
Tourist. 

“No,” answered the Traveller. “The Chris¬ 
tians want the Jews to know that this is the 
day for celebrating the resurrection of Christ.” 

“Well, they are making enough noise to raise 
the dead,” said the Tourist. “Do they ring 
every Saturday midnight like this ?” 

“No,” replied his companion. “Some of 
them do. But it gets monotonous to most of 


Bells of the Night 17 

them to ring every week. Every Easter season 
they all ring from midnight to noon, and there 
is little sleep within the vicinity of the city at 
such times." 

“They surely ring with a vengeance/' said 
the Tourist. 

“Rather than with a vision/' added the 
Traveller. “And they are only ringing to glo¬ 
rify their own sectarian views of life and death. 
The story of Christ's resurrection may not be 
told by noises of the night. It must be declared 
by voices of the day!" 

“Well," rejoined the Tourist, “you know my 
views on the subject of the resurrection, and I 
am sure that nothing could ever change them. 
I believe in the life of the Christ man; but when 
it comes to his resurrection, I have another 
opinion. And the noises of this resurrection 
celebration are not at all conducive to 
credulity." 

“He is wise indeed who says that nothing 
could ever change his views, particularly on a 
subject of such momentous import as the resur¬ 
rection of Christ," remarked the Traveller. 
“But to-morrow we are to visit the Empty 
Tomb." 


18 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

“Because of my respect for your faith/'* said 
the Tourist, “I shall refrain from seeking any 
relic or memento at that tomb to-morrow.” 

“On the contrary,” observed his companion, 
“your most precious travel treasure awaits its 
claimant on the morrow. And now, let us 
retire, for the hours are far spent and perhaps 
our very weariness may lure us away from the 
loud ringing of these bells of the night.” 

“Hear the tolling of the bells— 

Iron bells! 

What a world of solemn thought their monody 
compels! 

• •••••# 

They are neither man nor woman— 

They are neither brute nor human— 

They are ghouls: 

And their king it is who tolls; 

And he rolls, rolls, rolls, 

Rolls 

A paean from the bells! 

Bells, bells, bells,— 

To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.” 


Chapter II: Voices of the Day 

























Chapter II: Voices of the Day 

A faint flush of purplish grey tinted the east¬ 
ern horizon and kissed the lips of the coming 
dawn. Then streaks of red and yellow pen¬ 
cilled the sky like the ribs of a gigantic, glowing 
fan. Then a mantle of apple-green gold spread 
itself momentarily over the hills of the Hauran 
and the mountains of Moab. Then phantom 
light-waves came leaping across the Plain of 
Gilgal, dispelling the mists in the valley of the 
Jordan and reached out to embrace old Judaea 
with the soft, warm arms of the morning. 
Then the sun’s full disk rolled up over Pisgah’s 
height, swept clear of the sky-line and smiled 
forth in beauty and splendour upon the City of 
the Great King. 

It was a glorious Sunday morning in April. 

The bells were still ringing; but their tones 

seemed subdued. Perhaps it was to enable old 

priests’ voices to be heard as they intoned the 

litanies of the resurrection ritual. Perhaps the 

sunlight mellowed the chimes. Perhaps all 

21 


22 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

hands at the long, heavy ropes had grown 
weary. Perhaps it was the fatigue of over- 
zealous faith. Perhaps even the listening ear 
had become attuned to the multitudinous 
tongues of the belfries. Perhaps a subcon¬ 
scious credulity was listening for another voice 
with a deeper meaning. Who knows? In any 
event a Sunday morning in the city of Jerusa¬ 
lem is a travel experience worth while! 

Although wearied from the Sabbath wan¬ 
derings and the lack of rest on account of the 
ringing bells, the Tourist and Traveller had 
planned to get up betimes and watch the sun¬ 
rise. The last moments of “false morning” 
had found them standing on the battlements of 
the Tower of David, near the Jaffa Gate in the 
western wall. Heaven had blessed them with 
the full benefits of a majestic dawn. What 
they saw has already been described—but all 
too inadequately. What they had really seen 
was a spectacle for angels rather than men. 

“The year’s at the spring, 

The day’s at the morn; 

Morning’s at seven; 

The hill side’s dew-pearled; 

The lark’s on the wing; 


2 3 


Voices of the Day 

The snail’s on the thorn; 

God’s in his heaven— 

All’s right with the world!” 

Clambering down the precipitous wall they 
returned to the hotel for breakfast. It was a 
typical Lord’s Day morning in the Holy City. 
Men and women out of every nation under 
heaven were spending the Easter season among 
the sites associated with the last week of our 
Lord’s life upon earth. Tourist and Trav¬ 
eller watched them passing into the city by way 
of Jaffa Gate. They were on their various 
ways to masses, sacrifices, purifying processes 
and prayers. But it was all in celebration of 
one event —the anniversary of the resurrection 
of Christ. 

After watching them from the window of 
the breakfast room for a full hour the Tourist 
said: “Let us follow and see where they go/’ 

“But of all the vast numbers from every 
quarter of the earth, which ones would you 
follow?” queried the Traveller. 

“Let us follow them all into the city; then 
we may be able to select a small group and go 
to their place of worship,” answered the 
Tourist. 


24 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

Leaving the hotel they stepped into the street 
and joined the worshippers as they were pass¬ 
ing along the last stretch of the Jaffa Road and 
underneath the ancient archway. Just within 
the walls the multitudes began to scatter and 
move away in various directions. Some went 
to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Some 
went along the Via Dolorosa to the Two Little 
Sisters of Zion. Others went to the German 
Church. Others, to the chapel in the American 
Colony. Still others went to the Russian 
Church. A goodly number passed out the Jew¬ 
ish Gate and went to St. George’s. The tran¬ 
sient worshippers of that day numbered per¬ 
haps as many as the population of the entire 
city within the walls. The numerous churches 
did not want for audiences. The buildings 
were all crowded and the outside throngs out¬ 
numbered the devotees within by many thou¬ 
sands. There was no place of worship for any 
who had been late in entering the city. 

“Whatever the differences among their 
creeds, they are all preaching one message to¬ 
day,” said the Traveller. “And every voice 
this day is raised to proclaim the message of the 
resurrection.” 


Voices of the Day 25 

“If that is the theme at every church to-day, 
then let us go out among the hills and worship 
a God who is not of the creeds,’’ suggested the 
Tourist. 

“Very well,” answered his companion. “See 
those three men just coming through the gate. 
They will not go to one of the churches. I have 
seen them here before. We shall follow them. 
They are going for a walk around the city wall 
and it will be interesting to get their point of 
view.” 

“Who are they?” asked the Tourist. 

“Two of them are students and the other, 
the old man, was formerly professor of Greek 
in the University of Athens,” replied the Trav¬ 
eller. “The professor has for some time been 
a resident of the Holy City. I have known him 
for many years and you shall have the pleasure 
of knowing him before the day is ended. He is 
one of the greatest living authorities on Pales¬ 
tine, and, if we but have the opportunity of 
hearing him as he is instructing his compan¬ 
ions, the day will be worth while for us.” 

The three men of whom they were speaking 
walked leisurely along a narrow lane leading 
out from David Street, stopped beside an old 


26 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

fountain near the traditional site of the House 
of the Upper Room. Then passing out through 
the Zion Gate they made off down into the val¬ 
ley of Jehoshaphat to the pool of Siloam. 
They turned northward on the other side of 
the valley and walked up to the Brook Kedron, 
pausing momentarily at the gate of Geth- 
semane. Crossing back to the west of Kedron, 
they walked through a Mahometan cemetery 
and turned aside just north of the roadway to 
observe carefully the delineation of a little hill 
not far away. 

“He is pointing out Calvary to the students,” 
said the Traveller; for they had followed the 
professor and his companions. 

“Let us join them now and hear what he has 
to say,” urged the Tourist. 

“It shall be as you wish,” said his friend. 
“And you shall hear a voice that will mean 
more than the ringing of the bells. Let us go 
at once.” 

The Traveller was greeted by the aged pro¬ 
fessor with cordiality—they had not met for 
nearly a year—and the formalities of introduc¬ 
ing the other members of the little group were 
soon out of the way. The wisdom of the pro- 


Voices of the Day 27 

fessor captivated the Tourist and he soon 
became the most eager of students. 

“I was just getting ready to review the inci¬ 
dents and scenes connected with the last few 
hours of our Lord on this earth,” remarked the 
professor. “It will be a pleasure to increase 
my class for the morning.” 

Thus the way was made easy for the travel 
companions and they listened with profound 
respect to the utterances of this great man of 
wisdom. At the suggestion of the professor 
they were seated on the high wall of a Muslim 
tomb, facing the Holy City. 

“What is the most conspicuous thing about 
the wall of the city?” asked the aged Greek. 

“The Gate Beautiful,” answered one of the 
students. 

“True enough,” rejoined the Greek. “And 
it was through that gate, now a wall of solid 
masonry, that our Lord made his Triumphal 
Entry; and that event led to the tragedy of 
yonder hill,” he added, pointing to a rugged 
ridge near the top of which grew a couple of 
twisted olive trees. “You see,” he continued, 
“the three caverns just beneath the brow of 
that hill. What do they resemble?” 


28 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

“A gigantic skull,” ejaculated the Tourist. 

“You are right. That hill is Calvary, ‘the 
place of a skull’ of the crucifixion day,” re¬ 
marked the professor. 

The Traveller took copious notes of what the 
Greek then said about the death, burial and re¬ 
ported resurrection of Christ. The writer, 
having had access to these notes, will set down 
in the succeeding chapter an almost accurate 
translation, word-for-word, of the things that 
were spoken by the learned professor. 

“I am the resurrection and the life: 

He that believeth on me, though he die, yet shall he 
live: 

And whosoever liveth and believeth on me shall never 
die.” 


Chapter III: A Hill and a Garden 









Chapter III: A Hill and a 
Garden 

Golgotha is only a short distance north of 
Jerusalem. It was known in the ancient day 
as “the place of a skull.” It is now better 
known in the nomenclature of the church as 
Calvary. On this diminutive hill, really a rug¬ 
ged limestone knoll, within full view of the 
passing crowds on the public highway, the man 
who claimed to be the Jewish Messiah and the 
Son of God was crucified one spring day nearly 
two thousand years ago. 

As for the historicity of that tragic transac¬ 
tion there is not a reasonable foundation for the 
slightest doubt. Here incredulity goes a-beg¬ 
ging. Here even the avowed infidel must stand 
with uncovered head. On this very spot the 
holiest man of all history was put to death. 
The deepest human emotions have always been 
awakened by innocent suffering and sacrifice, 

and the vocabulary of supernatural superlatives 

31 


32 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

might be exhausted and yet not fully describe 
the influence of the story of the crucifixion of 
Christ upon humankind. For no other tragedy 
has ever moved the world in such manner as it 
has been moved by this event. 

Between Calvary and the city wall there was 
a quiet garden. In that garden was a private 
tomb. The garden was part of a small plot of 
ground that was the property of an Arima- 
thsean named Joseph, and he had provided the 
tomb for his own last resting place. Joseph 
was wealthy, high in the councils of the Jews 
and yet, at the same time he was a disciple of 
Christ. Tender hands of modern Christians 
have restored at least a part of this garden in 
the shadow of Calvary, and Joseph’s stone- 
hewn tomb, empty and yawning wide, is visited 
annually by unnumbered multitudes. 

Immediately after the death of Christ 
Joseph interviewed Pilate in private asking 
that the body of the crucified One be given to 
him. The governor had seen and heard enough 
of the ghastly happenings of the day and was 
glad indeed to have some disposition made of 
the body. He had been moved to fearful super¬ 
stitions by the attitude of his wife and by the 


A Hill and a Garden 33 

unusual conduct of Christ when he had tried 
him in the grey dawn of the morning. The 
natural disturbances of the day only augmented 
the strange fear that gnawed its way into his 
heart. He had washed his hands of the matter; 
but all the waters of the Tiber could not wash 
the fear from his heart. Joseph’s interview 
was timely. At least the burial of the body 
could be left out of the Roman records. Pilate 
gave the body to Joseph hoping against hope 
that this might be the last of the whole matter. 
But his was a hopeless hope—the hope of a 
deep remorse! 

Leaving the palace of the governor Joseph 
called Nicodemus who was also a secret fol¬ 
lower of Christ, and together they went to Cal¬ 
vary as the sad day was drawing to its close. 
These men accompanied by Mary Magdalene 
and Mary, the mother of Joses—a sorrowing 
group of four faithful friends—took the body 
of Christ from the cross and carried it down 
the hillslope to the tomb in the garden. Here, 
after proper care, according to Jewish burial 
customs, they deposited the body in Joseph’s 
own new tomb and Joseph himself rolled the 


34 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

heavy stone into its place and thus closed the 
sepulchre door. 

With Calvary so very near— 

About this tomb I wonder; 

And here I often ponder 
And ask if Joseph knew, 

Watching the workmen hew 
His tomb; 

That here 
The Saviour dear 
Should find repose 
Ere he arose?— 

With Calvary so very near! 

Immediately after the entombment Joseph 
departed, presumably to his home. But the two 
women sat for awhile on the ledge of stone over 
against the sepulchre. Then they returned to 
their homes and prepared spices and ointments 
for the sacred body of their friend. The sub¬ 
sequent movements of Nicodemus are not 
known. The crucifixion of Christ did not nec¬ 
essarily take place on the day before the regular 
weekly Sabbath. As a matter of fact the vari¬ 
ous records are against such a view. It took 
place on the day of Preparation for High 
Sabbath in the Passover week. The burial took 
place on the same day. On the day following 
the crucifixion and burial, the chief priests and 


A Hill and a Garden 35 

Pharisees (surely they would not thus desecrate 
the regular Sabbath), went to Pilate and de¬ 
manded that the sepulchre door be sealed and 
guarded until the third day. The wretched 
governor readily acceded to their demand and 
eagerly urged them to go and attend to the 
matter with all possible diligence and despatch. 

The fact that the guard was placed at the 
tomb of Christ was proof that even his enemies 
believed he had power to do what he had said 
about coming out of the grave. The man who 
in his life had kept his every promise—and 
what extravagant promises they were—might 
keep his promise concerning the resurrection. 
The man who in his life had made the high and 
mighty tremble and who had silenced by his 
wisdom and power, the proud Pharisees and 
priests,—what would he not do to them if he 
should arise from the dead! They had seen his 
deportment in life. No other man was ever like 
that. They had watched him during the trial. 
No other man ever thus confounded his accus¬ 
ers. They had witnessed his death. No other 
death was ever like that. And they were 
afraid! They had made one mistake when they 
nailed him to the cross. Now they wanted the 



36 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

sepulchre carefully guarded “lest a last mistake 
be worse than the first.” 

Thus the Roman guard provided by Pilate 
and watched over by the chief priests and 
Pharisees was put in place after a careful ex¬ 
amination of the sepulchre had been completed. 
They made a painstaking work of it. No pos¬ 
sibility, no probability did they overlook! Jew 
and Roman alike sticklers for law, now risked 
their all upon the seal of Caesar which they 
affixed with due pomp and ceremony to the 
massive stone at the door of the tomb and the 
side of the solid wall against which it reposed. 
All of the traditions of sixteen hundred years 
of Judaism which found consummation in the 
priests and Pharisees of that day, and all of the 
strength of invincible Rome were pitted at that 
guarded grave against the simple promise of 
one man! And only a few hours before he had 
not shown sufficient interest in life to save him¬ 
self from death at their hands, notwithstanding 
the fact that he had all along claimed power to 
raise himself from the dead! Why pass 
through the agony of death while claiming such 
power? What a paradox! No words could 
describe the various shades of fear and doubt 


A Hill and a Garden 37 

and faith and uncertainty that characterized 
the hearts of these men who so zealously 
watched that rolling stone! 

Day and night they must keep their vigil. 
But they had not long to wait. On the morning 
of the third day the report of the expected and 
the unexpected was sweeping with irresistible 
force over the whole city. Within a few hours 
the message of Christ’s resurrection was the 
one topic of conversation. At the first news 
the disciples themselves were the most incredu¬ 
lous of all. But soon the report was confirmed. 
The story of the resurrection became not only 
a settled fact, it became the fundamental doc¬ 
trine of the religion that was then and there 
started and named after its founder. The 
principles of Christianity had been many years 
in forming during the dispensations leading up 
to, and including the period of Christ’s minis¬ 
try; but the resurrection was not a growth. 
In the twinkling of an eye it sprang into history 
giving concrete form and faith to Christianity. 
And they who retreated in fear at the cruci¬ 
fixion, themselves became martyrs for the 
faith! And to this very day the power of the 
resurrection story remains undiminished! An 


38 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

Empty Tomb in a tiny garden becomes the 
mightiest force of all time! 

Through passing years the millions come and go 
Along the sin-worn trail of pain and woe: 

Seeking some solace in a world of tears, 

Crying for courage in a world of fears. 

And moving on they reach an ancient gate 
Where peace and comfort for their tired hearts wait,— 
And rest from every care. And faith born here 
Brings hope eternal—for The Tomb is near! 


Chapter IV: By Way of Gethsemane 


* 


> 









Chapter IV: By Way of 
Gethsemane 

It was high noon before the professor had 
finished the story of the suffering, death, en¬ 
tombment and resurrection of our Lord. The 
four listeners sat as if entranced by the sound 
of his voice; and the very landscape seemed to 
confirm his every utterance. The bells in the 
city were no longer ringing; but not one in the 
little group knew just when they were silenced. 

“We must be going back to the city now; but 
perhaps you would care to join us in a visit to 
the Empty Tomb in the late afternoon,” said 
the Greek professor, as he told the Traveller 
and Tourist good-bye. 

“By all means,” eagerly answered the Tour¬ 
ist, turning to his friend for confirmation of 
his enthusiasm. 

“Where shall we meet?” asked the Traveller.. 

“Meet us at the Damascus Gate at five 

o'clock,” replied the professor. 

41 


42 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

The Greek and his companions then retraced 
their steps over Kedron and returned to the 
city by way of Siloam and the South Gate. 
The Tourist and Traveller were left standing 
at the gate of the Mahometan cemetery, near 
the old stone bridge that spans the historic 
brook. Both watched the departure of their 
friends; but neither seemed inclined to leave 
the spot where the gates of wisdom had opened 
at the words of the aged scholar. 

“Let us go now to the Garden of Gethsemane 
and have lunch with one of the priests who is 
my friend and from whom you too, will receive 
a hearty welcome,” suggested the Traveller. 

A few steps brought them to the white picket 
gate and a single pull at the cord on the door¬ 
post set the little silver bell in the garden mon¬ 
astery a-tinkle. It was instantly answered by a 
brown-robed priest whose welcome was so 
genuinely cordial that even the Tourist was 
fully at home, although he had never visited 
the place before. The priest, long since passed 
on in the hope of the resurrection, was known 
to travellers as “Father Kindly.” His unfail¬ 
ing kindness to all visitors had won for him this 
tender sobriquet. For many years he had kept 


By Way of Gethsemane 43 

the small garden beneath the three or four olive 
trees; and to him, as to many others, it was 
sacred as the Prayer Place of the Son of God. 
Here the deepest mystery of the incarnation 
had transpired. Tourist and Traveller were 
soon resting in the library while “Father 
Kindly” busied himself about preparation for 
the noonday meal. 

“What did you think of the Greek teacher?” 
asked the Traveller of his friend. 

“I am still under the spell of his voice,” 
answered the Tourist, “so I am not prepared to 
tell you what I think. While he was talking I 
believed all he said. In fact I have always be¬ 
lieved all of it except the story of the resurrec¬ 
tion; but his clear, matter-of-fact fashion of 
putting the whole record of scenes and events 
together indicates that he simply presupposes 
the resurrection story to be just as true as the 
rest of it—as if the rest could not be true with¬ 
out the resurrection! I confess that he has put 
me to thinking on the subject from an entirely 
different angle than I had ever thought of it 
before.” 

“And with all you say,” rejoined the Trav¬ 
eller, “he only hinted at the place of the resur- 


44 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

rection in the divine scheme of things; but that 
he holds it to be the one power behind the mes¬ 
sage of Christianity is obvious from his closing 
remarks. He has thought long and carefully 
upon the subject and our visit to the Empty 
Tomb this afternoon will be an unusually inter¬ 
esting experience for us.” 

‘‘Earth at this hour is shaken with the passion 
Of Resurrection fire. 

Stupendous forces move and mold and fashion 
Unto God’s great desire. 

The only death is death in man’s perception; 

The only grave is grave of blinded eyes; 

Creation’s marvel mocks at man’s deception— 

It is man’s mind that from its tomb must rise!” 

At this juncture “Father Kindly” called his 
guests into the tiny dining room where they 
joined him in a simple but plentiful meal. The 
conversation naturally turned to the events of 
the morning and the Tourist found himself 
describing with fidelity the dissertation of the 
Greek professor. He had never before studied 
these outstanding doctrines of Christianity at 
first hand in the very land that gave them birth, 
and an interest he had not hitherto felt was 
aroused within his heart. Years before, the 
priest and the Traveller had experienced this 


By Way of Gethsemane 45 

same feeling; and they watched with deep 
enthusiasm the Tourist’s increasing faith. 

“The Greek is not of my faith,” said the 
priest; “but his scholarship entitles him to the 
intellectual homage that every student of the 
Land and the Book is compelled to pay. No 
thoughtful person can hear him without leav¬ 
ing richer in faith and wisdom. I have been 
to the Empty Tomb with him. Before that 
visit, I was somewhat of a doubter. Ever 
after, my faith in the resurrection has been my 
richest possession. You should go with him to 
that sacred place if you are to be in the city for 
awhile.” 

“We are to go with him this afternoon,” 
remarked the Tourist. 

“Then you are to be blest of heaven and I 
urge you to speak no more of the resurrection 
now,” said the priest. “Instead let us go into 
the garden and talk of the agony in Geth¬ 
semane. An hour there will only intensify your 
interest in the last hours of the life of Christ 
upon our earth.” 

The priest took each of his guests by the arm 
and, walking between them, he led them into the 
garden. With the brethren of his order, he 


46 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

had kept the place for more than sixty years. 
Gethsemane that day was a paradise of pansies, 
violets, lilies of the valley and roses of Sharon, 
all set out and tended in orderly and artistic 
fashion. For several hundred years before the 
coming of “Father Kindly” the garden had 
been kept by an order of monks, and visitors 
from many lands and ages have breathed the 
inspiration of its serene and sacred atmosphere. 

“Tell us of the traditions of Gethsemane,” 
said the Tourist, addressing his remarks to the 
priest. 

“Traditions! In the common usage of that 
word, we have none,” said the priest. “If 
prayer has a place in history, this is the most 
historic spot on earth. We never speak of 
legends and traditions in Gethsemane. The 
Latin order, to which I belong, always reckons 
with this little garden between Olivet and 
Kedron as a place well established in history. 
This is the Gethsemane of the Four Gospels. 
It meets the requirements of the sacred record 
not only, it has maintained its identity through 
all of the changing fortunes of the Holy Land. 
Sixteen hundred years ago Eusebius and 
Jerome spoke of this as the place where the 


By Way of Gethsemane 47 

Master was arrested after the 'Prayer of 
Agony in the shadow of the Mount of Olives/ 
Throughout the centuries the students of Pal¬ 
estinian bibliography have never seriously 
questioned the testimony of these great 
scholars of the early church. The Greeks have 
recently created a Gethsemane not far from 
the Virgin’s Tomb; but that is only a 'spite’ 
garden, and no thoughtful person considers 
their claim for it any more than he accepts the 
tradition of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 
Over there is the ‘Tree of the Agony’ and, 
while two thousand years is a long life for an 
olive tree, yet we know that somewhere near 
this very place we could have heard His voice 
if we had stood here on that tragic night He 
prayed for 'the cup to pass.’ Gethsemane here 
and Calvary yonder are facts in history. They 
are facts too, in human experience, without 
which no mortal may taste the sweets of life 
eternal. Gethsemane is soul-surrender to the 
perfect will of God: Calvary is body-sacrifice 
to meet the conditions of perfect love. Geth¬ 
semane is the Outer Court of the Temple of 
Immortality; Calvary is the Holy Place; The 


48 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

Tomb is the Holy of Holies. God and Immor¬ 
tal Life belong to him who enters the temple.” 

“Waken, O world, if ye would glimpse the wonder 
Of God’s great Primal Plan! 

Open, O ears, if ye would hear the thunder 
Hurled from the heights to man! 

How long shall Christ’s high message be rejected?— 
Two thousand years have passed since it was told. 
Must One again be born and resurrected, 

Ere man shall grasp the secret, ages old ? 

What, then, the miracle of Easter day? 

What meant the riven tomb, the hidden Might 
That conquered Death and rolled the stone away 
And brought the Master back to mortal sight ? 

This! That throughout the worlds, One Life, un¬ 
broken, 

Rushes and flames in an eternal vow. 

Death can not be, and never has been spoken— 

God and Immortal Life are here and now!” 


Chapter V: At the Empty Tomb 
























































































































































































































































































































































































































Chapter V: At the Empty 
Tomb 


The wide shadow of the East Wall of the 
Holy City was creeping down into the valley of 
Brook Kedron and the lofty minarets were 
standing like exclamation points against the 
red glow of the afternoon sun. “Father 
Kindly” had turned his hour-glass for the 
fourth time since the arrival of his guests. 
Now it was approaching the time for them to 
keep their appointment with the Greek pro¬ 
fessor at the Damascus Gate. 

The gentle priest bade them a touching fare¬ 
well, saying to his old friend, the Traveller: 
“When we meet again it shall be beyond the 
Empty Tomb. May the heavenly Father keep 
us all in the hope of the resurrection. After 
all, life holds nothing else worth while for the 
children of earth.” 

As the two men departed from Gethsemane 

the Tourist said to his companion: “Is it not 

51 


52 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

strange that faith in the realities of the Chris¬ 
tian revelation is the normal atmosphere of 
these men who live in Palestine ?” 

“No,” replied the Traveller; ‘‘it is only nat¬ 
ural that this should be true. These men really 
seek reasons for faith; whereas we seem to 
look for excuses to doubt. Palestine is no place 
for a doubter who seeks for confirmation of his 
doubt. The Holy Land like the holy Bible, if 
studied in the spirit of doubt and criticism will 
appear in a difficult and confusing aspect; but 
if approached in the spirit of candid searching 
after truth, it will reveal almost as much truth 
as the very Bible itself. Only an uncandid 
mind could reject the words of ‘Father Kindly’ 
in Gethsemane. The closing events of Christ’s 
life are too well attested for any thoughtful 
person to doubt them seriously. No, my friend, 
the Greek and the priest are wise men, and we 
would do well to seek for confirmation of the 
beautiful faith they teach; but we shall hear 
more at the Empty Tomb.” 

Recrossing Kedron they walked along the 
road that skirts the North Wall until they came 
to the Damascus Gate. Hordes of pilgrims 
were passing through this portal and leaving 


At the Empty Tomb 53 

the city. The last of the Easter services had 
been held and they were now starting on the 
first lap of their homeward journey. They 
would reach Ramallah or Bethel before night¬ 
fall. By going thus far on Sunday afternoon 
they would avoid the real exodus of Monday 
morning. The Tourist and Traveller pushed 
through the gateway and waited within the 
walls for the coming of their friends of the 
morning. 

“There is no God but Allah; and Mahomet 
is the prophet of God! Come to prayer! Come 
to prayer!” It was the clear voice of the 
muezzin calling from a near-by tower of Islam. 
Muslims were spreading their prayer rugs, and 
many an ugly quarrel took place between them 
and the Christians as the latter poured out 
through the gate. 

“Religion takes strange turns in its devo¬ 
tees,” remarked the Tourist. 

“Yes,” answered the Tarveller; “but in this 
case we have a reasonable test of religion be¬ 
tween Muslim and Christian. The former is 
imitating the founder of Mahometanism; the 
latter is denying the Founder of Christianity 
by such conduct. To imitate the Founder of 


54 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

our religion is to prove that it is the purest 
form of faith ever known to man. Therefore 
our very destinies depend upon it. That is why 
Christ was raised from the dead. That is why 
he is alive in the conscience and in the con¬ 
sciousness of a day that dates itself two thou¬ 
sand years after his life in the flesh.” 

It was five o’clock precisely when the Greek 
professor greeted the two men at the gateway. 
He was alone. The young students of the 
morning had remained behind. The three then 
turned out through the gate and walked along 
the footpath beside the main highway to avoid 
the crowds. When they neared the top of the 
hillslope they turned a hundred yards to the 
right and stopped midway between the olive 
trees on Calvary. They had seen this same 
place from the distance in the morning. Stand¬ 
ing here among the graves, for Calvary is now 
a Muslim cemetery, the professor read from 
the Greek scriptures the complete account of 
the crucifixion, pausing between sentences for 
the Traveller to interpret his words. The 
Tourist was listening as one enraptured. 
Scarcely aware that the Greek and his friend 
were present, for the reading and the inter- 


At the Empty Tomb 55 

pretation had ended, he was saying, while tears 
filled his eyes: 

“Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sor¬ 
rows ; 

Yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and 
afflicted. 

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was 
bruised for our iniquities; 

The chastisement of our peace was upon him; and 
with his stripes we are healed.” 

The cool shades of approaching twilight 
were kissing the valley and the slanting sun¬ 
light was crowning the hills. The last of the 
straggling pilgrims had passed along the road¬ 
way, hard by. The Turkish guards were clos¬ 
ing the massive gates of the city. Jerusalem 
was immersed in the immensity of silence. The 
spirit of eventide brooded over Calvary, soften¬ 
ing the rude outline of “the place of a skull.” 
At the foot of Golgotha was the garden of the 
Empty Tomb where solitude swayed its sceptre 
over the domain of resurrection memories. 
Surely no more auspicious time could be chosen 
for a visit to that holy shrine. 

“It was at this hour that Joseph and Nico- 
demus came to take the body of our Lord to 


56 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

the place of entombment,” said the professor. 
“Let us go down now to the sepulchre.” 

A winding footpath leads down the slope of 
Calvary in the direction of the Holy City. It 
passes through the edge of Joseph’s garden 
which is not a stone’s throw from the site of 
the crucifixion. Down this easy way the three 
men walked, the Greek and the Traveller arm 
in arm; the Tourist following only a few steps 
behind, singing as he went: 

“Lead, kindly light! amid the encircling gloom! 

Lead thou me on! 

The way is dark and I am far from home, 

Lead thou me on!” 

When they reached the foot of the hill they 
paused before a narrow gate. The small en¬ 
closure in front of The Tomb, spread out to the 
south and sloping gently toward the city wall 
is known as the parcel of ground that belonged 
to Joseph of Arimathsea. Entering the tiny 
gate, a few steps brought them to the door of 
The Tomb. Darkness was more than an hour 
away. The purple glow of the Judaean sun¬ 
set flooded the little garden with soft, pale light 
and illumined the tomb chamber with a slow, 
full tide of subdued glory. They “stooped to 


At the Empty Tomb 57 

look in” as did Peter when Mary’s message sent 
him running to this same portal of death and 
life. With uncovered heads they entered and 
stood within the sacred precincts and looked 
carefully and reverently about them. The 
Greek and the Traveller had been here before 
and they soon passed without The Tomb leav¬ 
ing the Tourist to his own meditations within. 
No word of conversation had passed among 
them since coming down from the brow of 
Calvary. 

When the Tourist finally rejoined his com¬ 
panions the three of them sat down on the 
grass before the open door of The Tomb. At 
the request of the Greek professor the Trav¬ 
eller read from memory the crucifixion and 
resurrection chapters of the Four Gospels and 
the first and second chapters of the Acts of the 
Apostles. If the reader of this little book will 
turn to these scriptures and peruse them just 
here he will better understand the meaning of 
the aged teacher’s discourse which I am going 
to set down in the following chapter. 

Night had fallen by the time the Traveller 
had finished the reading and the men arose to 
return to the hotel. As they walked westward 


58 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

along the north wall of the Holy City the 
rugged turrets and imposing battlements above 
the Damascus Gate frowned down upon them 
like sullen sentinels at the portal of eternal 
night. But the phantom dusk was soon lifted 
and the stars, shining symbols of everlasting 
light and life, smiled from the clear, blue 
heavens as if to guide them into a deeper knowl¬ 
edge of all they had experienced during this 
long, eventful day. 

The Tourist and Traveller invited the Greek 
teacher to dine with them at the Hotel Fast 
just outside the Jaffa Gate. After dinner the 
men sat for a little time together over their 
Turkish coffee. Then they all went to the 
home of the Greek. A walk of thirty minutes 
westward along the Jaffa road brought them 
to the unpretentious dwelling which was fash¬ 
ioned after the pattern of the houses of Pales¬ 
tine in the days of our Lord’s life upon the 
earth. Without entering the house they as¬ 
cended the outer steps to the housetop and 
there, reclining comfortably among the soft 
cushions, basking in the sheen of Syrian star¬ 
light, the travel companions listened with bated 


At the Empty Tomb 

breath to the dissertation that fell from the 
eloquent lips of the Greek. 

A late moon bathed the sleeping city with 
mellow light and silvered the mists that draped 
minaret, spire and dome as the Tourist and 
Traveller walked back toward the hotel. Arm- 
in-arm they went slowly along their wonder- 
walk singing on the way: 

“There’s a wonderful story I’ve heard long ago, 

’Tis called ‘The sweet story of old’— 

I hear it so often wherever I go, 

That same old story is told. 

And I thought it was strange that so often they’d 
tell 

That story as if it were new; 

But I’ve found out the reason they love it so well— 
That old, old story is true!” 









i 


Chapter VI: The Discourse in the 
Starlight 



Chapter VI: The Discourse 
in the Starlight 

It is an old but true saying that the Bible is 
the most wonderful and extraordinary book in 
the whole realm of the world’s literature. 
Whoever reads it just as he would read any 
other book will soon discover that it is unlike 
any other book he ever read. It is not to be 
worshipped as a fetish, because like everything 
else that has been entrusted to human keeping, 
it has its imperfections. Only an uncandid 
mind, however, could refuse to acknowledge 
the superiority of the religion it teaches. And 
it is upon this religion that the moral, spiritual, 
and intellectual destinies of mankind inevitably 
depend. 

The Bible too, has for its foremost character 

the noblest man that ever walked among the 

children of this earth. Human or divine, Jesus 

Christ was the nearest approach to God that we 

have ever known. It is enough to know that 

63 


64 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

no man is able to find God without him. It is 
sufficient to realise that the ways of salvation, 
righteousness and peace are forever being 
offered to men and nations through him. And 
the amazing thing about it all is that these sub¬ 
lime blessings are proclaimed to the world in 
the name of one who like all others that ever 
lived, went down to death and the grave. Thus 
all of the achievements of Christian faith have 
been wrought in the name of a dead man if it 
so be that Christ was not raised from the dead! 
Herein is found the secret that distinguishes 
Jesus Christ from all other teachers and re¬ 
formers of history. His work was accom¬ 
plished after his death! 

While Christ lived he achieved less than any 
other notable character of which we have 
any record. Measured by the work of a life¬ 
time, by battles fought and victories won 
between the cradle and the grave, the life of 
Christ was a failure; and his enemies easily 
outwitted him and triumphantly brought his 
work and life to an ignominious close by slay¬ 
ing him upon the cross. If death ends all, the 
crucifixion of the man of Nazareth was the 
deepest disgrace in the annals of time! If we 


The Discourse in the Starlight 65 

are to make a moral and intellectual estimate 
of Christ by his lowly life between Bethlehem 
and Calvary, we will have to admit that many 
other Bible names must be written over his on 
the scroll of fame. Joseph, in Egypt; Moses, 
the law-giver; Isaiah, the prophet; John the 
Baptist; Saul of Tarsus—and a dozen other 
outstanding figures of Sacred Story are to be 
reckoned with as having done more for the 
world and for the age in which they lived, when 
we measure their works by the span of a regu¬ 
lar life. But the sum of their mighty deeds is 
as nothing when placed beside the achievements 
of Christian genius and the triumphant and 
convincing victories of faith that is in Christ 
Jesus. No other dead man was ever the author 
of a progressive faith. In the whole field of 
the world’s religions Christianity is the only 
friend of human advancement; the other reli¬ 
gions are the relentless foes to progress. This 
means that the author of Christianity is a 
living fact in the great to-day. 

It was during the life of Moses that he gave 
to Israel the Ten Commandments; it was after 
the death of Christ that he gave to his disciples 
the Great Commission. A single race long 


66 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

time ago outlived the decalogue; but the gospel 
of Christ is an everlasting message for all races 
of men. The law of Moses is dead; the word 
of Christ is a living and dynamic power. It 
was while Solomon lived that he built the mag¬ 
nificent temple in Jerusalem; it was after the 
death of Christ that he built his church. The 
edifice reared in the days of Solomon has 
served its time and gone into dust and oblivion ; 
but the church of Christ is the mightiest living 
force in the world to-day. Xerxes, Cyrus, 
Alexander, Caesar and Napoleon conquered 
their millions and founded empires only to see 
them go down to wreck and ruin. These 
mighty conquerors too, were forever defeated 
in death. Their conquests were of this life. 
They were facts in history. They are all dead. 
But Christ is a fact in the life of our day. 
And the kingdom which he founded after his 
death is increasing in scope and power through¬ 
out the whole world. When he said: “Upon 
this rock I will build my church, and death shall 
not keep me from building it” he issued a chal¬ 
lenge to death, common enemy of all mankind, 
and the spiritual victories recorded in the Acts 
of the Apostles are the unimpeachable evi- 


The Discourse in the Starlight 67 

dences of his triumph over the grave. Jesus 
Christ is the one man who was not vanquished 
by death . 

If death is the penalty meted out for viola¬ 
tion of the laws of life, then it is only reason¬ 
able to expect that every mortal must die. If 
death is “the wages of sin,” then we must 
accept our pay and go the way of all the earth; 
for “we have all sinned.” But among the sons 
of men we have a solitary exception to these 
two statements. Jesus Christ never violated 
any law, and he was absolutely sinless. It fol¬ 
lows, therefore, that death could not conquer 
him; that the grave could not forever hold him. 
This is why the world has found a deathless 
hope in the story of The Empty Tomb. While 
he lived, Christ had nothing to offer his age 
except his spotless life and all that went with it; 
but this was enough for the ones who walked 
and talked with him if they had only known 
the worth of true godliness. Since they did 
not understand, surely the moral and spiritual 
economy of the Creator could not allow that 
pure life to be lost forever in death. The resur¬ 
rection from the dead was the only fitting and 
reasonable consummation of such a life as the 


68 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

man Jesus Christ lived upon this sin-cursed 
earth. 

Just as Christ is unique among men so also 
is the Bible unique among books. And it does 
not take any stretch of the imagination to dis¬ 
cover why Christ and the Bible are so placed in 
the estimate of unbiased scholarship. Christ 
is unlike other men and the Bible is unlike other 
books for the simple reason that the fate of 
the Bible is hinged upon Christ and the fate of 
Christ is hinged upon the resurrection story. 
Since death could not destroy Christ, it follows 
that the Bible has become a book throbbing 
with vitality and life-giving power. It has 
withstood the storms of time and the tests of 
criticism and in undecaying might and super¬ 
human majesty it sweeps resistlessly onward in 
its heaven-directed course, swaying the lives of 
men and nations and determining the moral 
destinies of the world. Herein is seen the 
power of the resurrection. If Christ had not 
been raised from the dead the Bible would be 
like the Alkoran or any other book; its records 
would have closed with Calvary, and it would 
simply be another enemy to spiritual and intel¬ 
lectual advancement. The Bible story of The 


The Discourse in the Starlight 69 

Empty Tomb is the beginning of the rule of 
love and the reign of life and liberty among the 
peoples of the earth. 

The Bible glorifies death and guarantees life 
which death cannot touch. The seal of this 
glorification is The Empty Tomb. The space 
between the Passover of Christ’s condemnation 
and the Pentecost of his vindication links earth 
to heaven and establishes immortality as our 
reasonable goal. Whoever reads the crucifix¬ 
ion and resurrection chapters of the Four Gos¬ 
pels and the opening chapters of the Book, of 
Acts will never think lightly of the message 
which they bear. They suggest the startling 
and thought-provoking fact that the Bible is 
the only book in the literature of the world that 
does not lose its interest with the death of its 
leading character. 

It is the power of the resurrection that 
bridges the gulf between Calvary and Pente¬ 
cost and paves the way for the spiritual con¬ 
quest of the world. The book called the Acts 
of the Apostles is the most triumphant volume 
in the whole field of history. The Christ of 
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, limited by in¬ 
auspicious birth, lowly relationship and inhos- 


70 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

pitable environment, started the gigantic task 
of winning the world from sin by the power of 
an amazing love. As human records are kept, 
his work was finished ere it was well begun— 
he was nailed to the cross. But the Christ of 
the Acts of the Apostles takes up again his 
mighty work and carries it on to glorious vic¬ 
tory, for now there is no difference between 
him and Omnipotence. Now he continues in 
majesty and unlimited power the work which 
he commenced in weakness and in shame. The 
conquests of Christianity are not the works of 
a dead man; they are the achievements of One 
who has entered into the f illness of immortality. 

The resurrection of Christ from the dead is 
the most significant fact in his life not only, 
it is the central fact of all history. The evi¬ 
dences offered in support of it would establish 
any other fact in that, or any other age. There 
is not a reasonable basis for doubt at this 
important point in the career of the Christ. 
The God of everlasting life has made the resur¬ 
rection of Jesus Christ the mightiest fact in his 
divine plan. To deny it is to miss the one sure 
promise of immortality for us all. 

These were the words that fell from the lips 


The Discourse in the Starlight 71 

of the Greek as he entertained his two friends 
in the Syrian starlight. I have copied them 
from the notebook of the Traveller. I told of 
their departure from this alluring scene in the 
preceding chapter. Just below the Traveller’s 
memorandum of this discourse, I discovered the 
following lines which he must have written 
that night: 

“I am well convinced that my departed 
friends are so far from having ceased to live, 
that the state they now enjoy can alone with 
propriety be called life. I feel myself trans¬ 
ported with impatience to join those whose 
characters I have greatly respected and whose 
persons I have loved. Nor is this earnest desire 
confined alone to those excellent persons with 
whom I have been connected. I ardently wish 
also to visit those celebrated worthies of whom 
I have heard or read so much. To this glori¬ 
ous assembly I am speedily advancing; and I 
would not be turned back on my journey, even 
on the assured condition that my youth should 
again be restored. ... In short, I consider 
this world as a place which nature never in¬ 
tended for my permanent abode; and I look on 
my departure from it, not as being driven from 


72 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

my habitation, but simply as leaving an inn.”— 
Cicero. 


“Immortality o’ersweeps 

All pains, all tears, all time, all fears—and peals 

Like the eternal thunders of the deep 

Into my ears this truth—Thou liv’st for ever!” 


Chapter VII: Life and Death 














Chapter VII: Life and Death 


“We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; 

In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 

We should count time by heart-throbs. 

He most lives, 

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. 

And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest: 

Lives in one hour more than in years do some 

Whose flat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins. 

Life is but a means to an end, 

Beginning, mean, and end to all things,—God. 

The dead have all the glory of the world.” 

— Bailey. 

It was the hour of midnight when Tourist 
and Traveller, leaving the home of the Greek 
and making their way to the hotel, paused at 
the entrance of the narrow outside street lead¬ 
ing down to Jaffa Gate and listened to the clear 
ringing of a distant bell. The music was 
wafted across the hills from the direction of 
Bethlehem. Soon the deep-voiced belfries of 
the Holy City joined in the midnight monotone 
and the pealing tide of sound echoed and re¬ 
verberated between the ancient walls and the 

moon-shrouded mountains round about Jerusa- 

75 


76 |In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

lem. For a full ten minutes they troubled the 
quiet of the sleeping city with their tumultuous 
cadences and then droned away into deep and 
peaceful silence again. The very hush of the 
holy hour was like a still voice whispering to 
the travel companions that another anniversary 
of the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the 
dead had gone from the earth for ever. 

Just as they were about to proceed to the 
hotel they observed a bright light shining from 
the window of one of the imposing houses set 
some distance back from the street. Shadowy 
forms flitted to and fro in front of the light, 
and several servants, crying softly in the 
shadows could be heard and seen in the door- 
yard. 

“There is something wrong here; and this 
is the home of my good friend, the Christian 
Arab, Shukrey Ali Hassan,” said the Traveller. 
“Let us turn aside and investigate. It may be 
that one of the servants is dead. But that 
would hardly keep the household awake at this 
time of night. Perhaps my friend is danger¬ 
ously ill.” 

They made their way quickly and quietly 
across to the group of servants and one of them 


Life and Death 77 

instantly recognised the Traveller who had 
often been a guest in the home of Shukrey 
Ali. In fact this very servant had accom¬ 
panied his Master and the Traveller on an over¬ 
land caravan journey to Damascus the previous 
year. 

“Allah be praised, my Master’s friend has 
come to him in his great sorrow,” cried the 
servant. 

“Where is thy Master? Laban, and what 
sorrow has come upon him?” said the Traveller, 
calling the servant by name. 

“I will take thee to him and he himself shall 
tell,” answered Laban; and with that, he led 
Tourist and Traveller to the open door of the 
house where Shukrey Ali himself met his old 
friend with outstretched arms. Tears were 
glistening in his eyes as he turned his full face 
up to the moon. Deep lines of sorrow were 
pencilled upon his pale countenance and the 
welcome he gave was out of a troubled heart. 

“Thrice welcome, my ancient friend and 
brother,” said Shukrey. “But you and your 
friend have come to me at a strange time. Per¬ 
haps an angel has sent you to give me needed 
strength. My daughter, my beautiful Reba 


78 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

died at the going down of the sun to-night. I 
watched for days and nights by her side, but 
all to no avail. For a little time on the Lord’s 
Day I left her bedside and visited the Empty 
Tomb. That was the last place we ever went 
together, and she wanted me to go because it 
was the anniversary of Our Saviour’s resurrec¬ 
tion, you know. When I returned just before 
the close of day, she asked me if The Tomb was 
still there, and if I still believed The Story, and 
when she heard my answer, she passed on with 
a smile upon her lips as I pressed them to mine 
in her departure. My only child, my lovely 
Reba has gone to her everlasting home. She 
has gone to her mother who left us the night 
when little Reba came.” 

His grief was almost uncontrollable as he 
told us of his daughter’s death, and the dismal 
lamentation of the servants without made it 
indeed a house of mourning. The Traveller 
explained to the Tourist that the father could 
not quiet the servants who, true to the tradi¬ 
tions of the Orient, were indulging in sorrow 
that refused to be comforted. That was why 
Shukrey himself had sat so long time by the 
body of hiis daughter. 


Life and Death 79 

“I will quiet your servants, Shukrey Ali, and 
with my friend will watch through the night 
beside Reba’s bier,” said the Traveller. “Go 
now, my good friend, and find rest for your 
tired body and comfort for your broken heart. 
You know my love for Reba.” 

The Traveller stepped out of doors and gath¬ 
ered the servants together. When he had 
spoken a few quiet words to them, they de¬ 
parted in the moonlight and silence prevailed 
about the house of death. Embracing Shukrey 
Ali, he bade him a tender and affectionate good¬ 
night as he led him to his sleeping chamber. 
When the father had gone to sleep, Tourist and 
Traveller took up their vigil beside the death- 
couch of the beautiful Reba. 

The Traveller had known the good Arab and 
his family for many years. He had met Reba’s 
mother, a charming Armenian Christian wo¬ 
man, only the year before the birth of the child. 
That was twenty years ago. So Reba was 
nineteen when she entered into rest. She had 
been as a Christian rose, nurtured in the thorny 
environment of paganism and doubt. But her 
faithful father had trained her in the way of 
the Nazarene and her life had been a constant 


80 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

benediction. Turk, Arab, Jew, Greek,—none 
but knew and loved the beautiful Reba Hassan. 
Her smiling face would be missed; but the 
memory of her could never vanish from the 
hearts of this generation in the City of the 
Great King. True, death does not end all; for 
the memory of our loved ones cannot die with 
them. 

But now she was dead. Tender-hearted, 
sweet-voiced, bright-eyed, beautiful, faithful 
Reba Hassan was dead. Calm and strange 
was the change that had come upon her. What 
anguish would be awakened in the city when 
the news of her death should go the rounds. 
She whose life had brought so much of joy 
had passed to the death that could bring but 
sorrow. Dear, fair, pure, true Reba Hassan 
was dead. She who had dreamed and hoped 
and trusted and prayed and whose life had 
glorified a thousand other lives, was dead. 
How could the light of heaven allow this shin¬ 
ing earthly light to be extinguished forevert 

The Traveller drew aside the silken canopy 
which covered the silent form. The two men 
then stood and looked a long time upon the life¬ 
less face. The bright moon shining in at the 


Life and Death 


81 


window traced a halo of glory about her head 
and shoulders. The Traveller was weeping 
silently. The Tourist was the first to speak. 

“Oh, the greatness, the awfulness, the mys¬ 
tery of death,” he whispered reverently, for 
the very spirits of his own dead loved ones 
seemed somewhere in the moonlit chamber. 

“Nay, my friend,” said the Traveller, “you 
have but uttered the error of the ages upon the 
subject of death. Life, not death, is the mys¬ 
tery! Science, history, and human experience 
have taught us beyond all doubt that our bodies 
are but elemental dust, designed to inevitable 
decay and dissolution. The body of beautiful 
Reba Hassan has but passed to its original and 
natural estate. There is no mystery here now. 
The mystery has been in the nineteen wonder¬ 
ful years that she lived and loved and had her 
being; the mystery is that this sleeping form 
had ever waked at all! While she was ani¬ 
mated with vital, throbbing life; while this 
body was swayed by the power of mind to love 
and long and hope and fear and weep and sing; 
while it stood erect in graceful, living beauty; 
while she could think until agony or happiness 
and feel until the bursting of grief or of rap- 


82 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

ture, this, all of this was the mystery! Oh, the 
greatness, the aw fulness, the mystery of life!” 

Recanopying the bier and its inanimate oc¬ 
cupant the two companions seated themselves 
in a cushioned corner of the room to keep the 
death-watch until the coming of the dawn. It 
would be impossible to put down the whispered 
conversation of those long, sleepless hours be¬ 
side the body of Reba Hassan; but the reader 
will be interested in seeing here some of the 
sentences that ushered in the morning. 

“I had not reasoned thus concerning life/ ? 
said the Tourist. “As you put it, life, not 
death, is the thing to love and fear.” 

“Yes,” remarked the Traveller. “Whoever 
has learned how to live will never be fearful of 
death. The riddle of life must be solved by 
life itself. To this very end we have the story 
of the Empty Tomb. The resurrection of 
Jesus Christ is not so much the defeat of death 
and the solution of the problem of the grave; it 
is the believer’s guarantee of immortality. The 
story of the Empty Tomb is simply the vindica¬ 
tion of the perfect life of the Man of Galilee 

Day was breaking above the Holy City when 
Tourist and Traveller took leave of Shukrey 


Life and Death 83 

Ali and walked slowly in the morning light 
toward the hotel. Birds were a-twitter in the 
olive trees, the voice of the turtle-dove was 
heard in the dooryard, and a few early pilgrims 
were making their way down to Jaffa Gate. 
Life and death were coming close together in 
the way, and the living knew it not. The two 
men waited a few moments before mounting 
the steps to their hotel which was just west of 
the city wall. They were watching the anxious 
pilgrims who clamoured for an entrance. The 
night watchman was still asleep. The ancient 
gate had not yet been opened for the traffic of 
the day. 

“Some have come too early to enter the city,” 
said the Tourist. 

“Yes, and some will come too late,” remarked 
the Traveller. 

And so shall it ever he with the children of 
men at the Portal of Life and Death before the 
City of the Great King. 




Chapter VIII: From the Tourist’s 
Diary 














Chapter VIII: From the 
Tourist’s Diary 

“Whate’er of earth is form’d, to earth returns; 

The soul alone, that particle divine, 

Escapes the wreck of worlds, when all things fail.” 

Ten years have passed since the events herein 
recorded took place. They have been set down 
for the most part from memory; but they seem 
so fresh that nothing of importance has been 
forgotten. The writer even remembers a page 
from the diary of the Tourist. It was written 
on the day of Reba Hassan’s funeral and 
handed to me that night. It will serve as a 
fitting epilogue to this little book. 

Tuesday. ‘'Since last Saturday I have vis¬ 
ited with my friend, the Traveller, the various 
sites associated with our Lord’s last days upon 
this earth—Gethsemane, Calvary, the Empty 
Tomb—we have spent serious hours together 

at these sacred places. The Traveller intro- 

87 


88 In Palestine at the Empty Tomb 

duced me to “Father Kindly/' keeper of Geth- 
semane, and to an aged Greek professor with 
whom we visited Calvary and the Empty 
Tomb. The companionships of these three 
days past and the wisdom of the Greek have 
banished skepticism from my heart and life. 
From Sunday midnight to Monday's dawn I 
watched by the bier of Reba Hassan, daughter 
of Shukrey Ali Hassan, with the Traveller. 
Our conversation there is indelibly written on 
the tablet of my heart. ‘There is no mystery in 
death.' So says the Traveller. So say I. This 
afternoon we buried beautiful Reba Hassan in 
the tiny Christian cemetery out beside the 
Jaffa highway, not far from Bab-el-Wad. The 
roadway was bordered with Roses of Sharon 
and the hillside where she lies was carpeted 
with Lilies of the Valley. I would not ex¬ 
change the dark memories of the night we 
watched beside her and the sure hope of eternal 
life which I experienced at her grave this after¬ 
noon for the highest honours that a material 
world might have to offer. In short, these holy 
days have given me a new creed. I believe in 
the God of The Perfect Life, in the resurrec¬ 
tion of Jesus Christ as a vindication of that life, 


From the Tourist’s Diary 89 

in the immortality of Reba Hass an and every 
other child of the true and living God” 

It may further interest the reader to know 
that the inscription on the stone that marks the 
grave of Reba Hassan was written by the 
Traveller. It is carved in Arabic, her native 
tongue; but the writer has carried the transla¬ 
tion in his heart for many years. 

“Long evenings in some golden age to be, 

In some fair land beside a summer sea; 

When death has turned to life; when loss is gain; 
When perfect love has banished grief and pain; 
When gleams of morning greet the evening star; 
When sunrise kisses sunset from afar; 

When weary night has changed to endless day; 
When thornless roses bloom along the way— 

We’ll meet thee then, fair Reba, at the throne, 
When God and Life shall claim their very own! 
We’ll greet thee in that golden age to be, 

In that fair land beside the summer sea.” 


THE END 



















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